For Peace
by MiaGhost
Summary: Elliot is visiting his mother for a while between Games, and Ma Witt has some choice words of wisdom for her kid and his conflicted heart. Part 3 of For Life, For Love, For Blood and Glory.


~.~

"So who is she?"

Her voice broke his concentration, but his brain was slow to comprehend, still steeped in his work. He blinked at her owlishly, the goggles over his eyes distorting her frame. He pushed them up clumsily with the back of one hand, forgetting to think about his hair. It was nice, to be home for a while, to leave Mirage back at the GamesHub and just be _Elliot_ again.

"Who is who?"

His mother's face was tanning again, with new crinkles at the edges of her eyes. It was doing her good, living so close. Sure, it was still most of a day's journey to get back on the train, but she was looking better. She'd put some weight back on and her cheeks were full, her smiles warm and sure again.

He met her teasing smile with his own bemused one, before realising he was still holding the piece from his holo suit that he'd been working on. He set it aside and wiped his hands on an old cloth, before lifting the mug he'd failed to notice her set down for him. It was almost too warm in his hands, making the muscles in his fingers ache pleasantly from all the fiddly adjustments he'd been making. It was intricate work, often, and he had always had a habit of forgetting to take breaks, instead working till his fingers were numb and uncooperative.

"The girl." she laughed, sipping from her mug and giving him that _look_ over the rim.

Like she knew a secret. Like she knew _his_ secrets, her honey brown eyes alight with that specific strain of mirth that only mothers seem versed in, able to make him squirm. As a kid, it'd made him spill his guts more than once.

Hell, he was already thinking of her when it dawned on him what his mother was teasing him about. He took a sip from his mug as he tried not to jump right into defensive, for that'd be a sure giveaway that she'd struck a nerve. He felt part of himself melt under the cinnamon-honey spice as the warmth of it seeped into his insides like old memories.

"What girl?"

One confident eyebrow arched, and he did his best to fight the blush he could feel waiting to stain his skin. How unfair was it for his mother to have that kind of power over him?

"The one that's gotcha the way she has."

Elliot was a master of faces. Mirage was born from that, that skill of expression, the act. True, it was a safe bet his mother would know better; she'd raised four boys and knew a lie a mile out, but he had to try.

"I don't have a girl, Ma."

She gave a teasing sound of disbelief, and chuckled when he frowned.

"Didn't say you had one. Asked who she was that you wish you did."

He couldn't help it. That penetrating gaze was just gonna extract all his secrets like she always had, if he kept hold of it. Looking away was a cowardly move, maybe, and it was as good as admitting she was right, regardless.

But he'd never been able to take the feeling that she was peering into his very soul and seeing everything in it. There were some secrets in there that he _had_ to keep.

"Don't know what you mean."

An unconvinced hum, and the gentle clack of her nails against the ceramic of her favourite mug. He did his best not to think of her, of raven hair and eyes like the furthest oceans at night.

He drank from his mug and said nothing.

"It's that squadmate of yours, like they say it is in the news."

He barely managed not to choke, battling both the shock of being caught out and the irritation at the mention of the shameless journalists who spread rumours about them like schoolyard gossip.

"That's not real news, Ma. It's just tabloid speluc- spileca- speculation." he snapped, maybe a little more dismissively that he meant to, "They make all that up to cause drama, you know that."

Her expression was impassive, her brows high. He knew another woman who could pull that off, make him feel small and kind of silly. He swallowed. The drink was really too hot for anything more than sipping, but he scalded his mouth anyway lest his tongue let loose anything he didn't want it to.

"The rumours come from somewhere, Eli, _you_ know _that_."

He rolled his eyes, setting the mug down to cross his arms. Defensive, but he couldn't help it. He may be a master of expressions and body language, but his mother could bypass it like he was nothing but an amateur.

"It comes from nothing. We work together. People always see things where they don't exist."

He could feel her eyes on him when she paused, as though letting his words air before commenting in a hush.

"You're sayin' the words, but your heart ain't hearin' em."

"Ma…"

"I ain't asking you to marry her." she chuckled, moving beside him to match his lean against the workbench, "Just asking what's going on in your life. About what I'm reading out there about my kid, when I haven't heard it from him."

Guilt trickled down Elliot's spine. His mother sipped her drink, letting the quiet fall in the room.

"She's just my squadmate." he started, as a promise, "People, outsiders, they… they don't know her, not really. They see how private she is, keeping her distance from everyone, and they see how we've made friends and they think there's more to it than there is."

"So she doesn't know."

Her question was a statement, flat and finally unveiled between them, and Elliot just didn't have the heart to keep pretending that he wasn't picking up what she was laying down.

"No."

The admission hung in the workshop air, stark and exposed. There was no hiding from it there, and he hated it.

Now he had no denial to shield him, and it _hurt_.

"You always were that kid." his mother said softly after a time, when he'd had his eyes closed for so long he might have fallen asleep, were he able. It felt like all the fight had gone from him, all the energy, all his footholds agains the crushing knowledge that he loved her. That he loved her, and it was hopeless.

The glance he sent sideways to his mother made her smile sympathetically, nostalgia playing on the edges.

"The kid with the heart on his sleeve who never picked easy."

He swallowed again.

"It's not like that," he promised, "we really are just friends."

"The kind of friend you kill for." she corrected wryly, and he didn't want to touch the hatchet they'd buried over his choosing to participate in the Games.

"We keep each other alive."

"That's a dangerous kind of closeness, Eli." she said, though she knew he knew that already.

"It's a dangerous place."

"You know what I mean. Dangerous for your soul, not just your skin."

He dropped his head to lay his gaze upon the holo tech between them, fingers reaching out to brush over the smooth metal for comfort. His heart was heavy with the weight of her words, and he closed his eyes again.

"I know."

"She's a pretty thing."

The sudden change surprised him. Elliot's mouth formed an 'o' as his mind stalled, for while he was incredibly fond of everything Wraith was, she wasn't often winning any contests in the eyes of others.

When he looked up curiously, his mother only looked amused.

"What? You think you're the only one who can see the beauty in her? The kind of strength that girl has in her? You can't fake that."

Despite the harsh reality of facing his treacherous heart, he felt himself warm all over at her words.

"She's one of the strongest people I've ever met." he admitted, struggling to meet her eye as he did.

"I don't doubt it. I've seen the three of you in action. She has her eyes on you both, always. Like she ain't gonna let anyone get near, not if she can help it."

He was surprised his mother had seen so much, when she hated the Games so. When she worried about him so cripplingly.

"She's always got my back. Right from Day One, even when we weren't getting along right away."

His mother's expression was tainted by that bone-deep concern, but she smiled through it even though he knew what thinking about the Games did to her.

"She's reliable."

Elliot's mouth curved gently and he nodded, unaware of his own expression softening.

"Yeah."

"She'd die for you, I reckon," she said, soft and vulnerable, "if push came to shove. I think she would."

Elliot had to look away, emotion rising hotly in his throat at the considered scenario, a brief spike of adrenaline flaring thornily in his veins.

"Life only comes around once." she laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and squeezed, "Sometimes you gotta ride the train where your heart takes ya. Even if your head is screaming for the brakes."

Her encouragement fed a searing hope in his chest, but he pushed it away and shook his head.

"Sometimes it's better to leave well enough alone." he curled his fingers around his upper arms once more, "Sometimes it's just… just better to keep your mouth shut."

Normally that'd raise a laugh from her, the irony of him reciting a lesson she'd tried so long and hard to teach him growing up, and one he flaunted so regularly. But she only looked at him with sad eyes. She didn't dispute it, though it was clear on her face that she disagreed with him. Somehow that was worse than her saying it outright, reiterating her feelings on what he should do about the isolated friend he'd made, and the unfortunate love for her growing in his heart.

She eventually pushed off from her place beside him with a sigh, turning a weak smile his way.

"I think I'll start lunch. How's soup and grilled cheese sounding?"

He managed a grin.

"Sounds great, Ma."

As she was leaving the room, he turned back to his work, setting aside his mug once more and reaching for the delightful little piece that made the tinkerer in him cry for joy.

"And Eli?"

He turned his head, already falling into thoughts of adjustments as he sent her a glance of acknowledgement, waited for her to continue. She hesitated a couple seconds, just to be sure he was really focusing on her once more, an indulgent smile ghosting her lips.

"That squad of yours, you bring them for dinner sometime."

Elliot paused, his brow furrowing.

"Pathfinder doesn't eat, Ma."

Her grin was wide and teasing, that he so obviously avoided mentioning the third member of his team. He felt his face heat but said nothing more, refusing to rise to the bait like she wanted.

"I'd still love to meet him. He's made quite an impression on me, and made friends with my kid. He's just as welcome here as he would be if he _did_ eat."

He rolled his eyes and turned back to his bench with an exaggerated shooing motion over his shoulder.

"Alright, alright. I'll ask sometime."

"Elliot."

The way she said his name made him turn back again, serious and firm. It showed on her face when he looked at her, and he grew serious himself.

"I will, Ma. I'll invite them."

"I know that maybe you'd prefer not to have me interfering with that part of your life," she said, holding up a hand when he tried to reply, "but do it for me. It'd help, meeting them. Seeing for myself what they're really like, the ones I trust to keep you alive out there. Just for my own peace of mind."

He swallowed, feeling his chest restrict and knowing she was right, that he'd do as she wanted even if it would be an uncomfortable experience for himself. He owed her that much. He owed her more, the worry he put her through every time he signed up for a new Game.

"Okay." he answered.

She smiled gently again and stepped through the door, calling back over her shoulder as she did.

"You be sure to bring that Wraith. She looks like she could do with a good home cooked meal, or two. Breakfast _is_ the most important meal of the day."

The door clicked closed behind her, leaving Elliot to stare down at the spread of pieces and tools at his workstation with a vivid red blooming across his face.

~.~


End file.
